Zheng Yongyuan lay huddled on the couch wrapped in his blanket. The room was warm — the underfloor heating was burning — yet it felt as if a lump of ice had been stuffed inside his chest, cold enough to make him shiver and shake.

Chief Secretary Liu’s injury had not yet healed, Prefect Jia had broken his leg, and both were recuperating at home, leaving the entire Andu Prefecture offices under the direction of Adjutant Hua.

Sixteen days had passed since the first interrogation in the Fusheng Gate case. Hua the Fourth had kept him shut up in a side chamber of the prefecture offices — not in the prison, not under interrogation, not even asked a single question. Three meals a day, two teas a day, never lacking. The one who brought his food was a Persian youth named Yita, whose Tang speech was halting and clumsy; whatever Zheng Yongyuan asked, it was like a chicken talking to a duck.

The longer the days dragged on, the more uneasy Zheng Yongyuan grew. It felt as though somewhere in the unseen darkness a wild beast lurked, ready at any moment to spring out and swallow him whole.

Yita had come late today — it was already past the Xu hour and the evening meal had not yet appeared. Zheng Yongyuan slowly rubbed his hands and feet together, his belly growling with hunger.

The door creaked open, and a pale-faced man drifted in. His long robe was crimson, like blood poured across cloth; his black eyes were not those of a living person. For a split second Zheng Yongyuan thought he was seeing one of the underworld’s soul-snatching emissaries — it wasn’t until the man set the food box down on the table that he remembered: this person was Hua the Fourth’s coroner, Fangke.

Why had he sent a coroner to deliver his meals?

Could it be that they planned to poison him and then conveniently conduct an autopsy afterward?

Fangke lifted his robe and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Your hand,” he said coldly.

Zheng Yongyuan let out a yelp and threw his hands over his head. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, don’t kill me! I’ve already confessed everything!”

Fangke: “Yita said you’ve caught a cold. I’ve come to take your pulse.”

Zheng Yongyuan’s cry died in his throat. “You — you — you — you’re a coroner. You can also treat the living?”

Fangke: “Truth be told, I find your corpse far more interesting. A pity — it’s not yet time for you to die.”

With that, he seized Zheng Yongyuan’s wrist and pressed two fingers to the pulse. Fangke’s ice-cold fingers made every hair on Zheng Yongyuan’s body stand on end.

After a moment, Fangke drooped his eyelids and produced a pill. “Take this.”

Zheng Yongyuan shrieked. “What is this?!”

“You’re suffering from pent-up worry and you’ve caught a cold. This is medicine.” Fangke grabbed Zheng Yongyuan by the back of the neck and forcibly shoved the pill into his mouth. Caught between shock and fright, Zheng Yongyuan gulped it down whole, then retched repeatedly — but there was no bringing it back up.

He had to admit, the medicine worked surprisingly well. Only a few moments after swallowing it, a faint warmth began to spread through his abdomen.

Fangke was satisfied. “Eat.”

Zheng Yongyuan shook his head. “…No appetite.”

“Then go.”

“Go?! Go — go — go — where?!”

“Adjutant Hua is calling you in for questioning.” Fangke walked out.

Zheng Yongyuan tremblingly pulled on his shoes, tremblingly followed behind. The sky had already gone dark; the prefecture office was so quiet it was frightening, as if apart from the red-robed coroner before him, there was not another living creature in the world.

Zheng Yongyuan walked on and on, and then all of a sudden a chill shot through him — he heard a strange sound, like metal scraping.

“Fangke — Fangke — did you — did you hear something?”

Fangke’s steps were as steady as Mount Tai. “No.”

“Clang!” There it was again.

“That’s the sound of a blade leaving its scabbard! It’s a saber! A huge saber!” Zheng Yongyuan screamed and lunged forward. Fangke seemed to have eyes in the back of his head; he side-stepped neatly, and Zheng Yongyuan crashed to the ground.

Fangke looked down at him from above, his blinding crimson robe billowing in the wind like a soul-summoning messenger straight from the underworld. “There’s no sound. You’re hearing things.”

Zheng Yongyuan looked frantically in every direction. Dead silence all around, with only the sound of the wind.

“Keep moving.”

Fangke walked on; Zheng Yongyuan stumbled along behind him, from the rear of the compound along the covered walkway all the way to the side hall. Fangke stopped and pointed into the hall.

Hua Yitang was dressed in his sixth-rank official robes, wearing his official cap, sitting perfectly upright behind the main table. A candle stand was placed to his right; the candlelight flickered, leaving half his face hidden in shadow while the other half was cold as frost, his gaze sharp and cutting as a blade.

Zheng Yongyuan fell to his knees with a thud. “Adjutant Hua, I’ve already confessed! I’ve truly told you everything!”

Thud — a bundle of account books was thrown to the floor before him.

“Are these the account books you were referring to?” Hua Yitang said quietly.

Zheng Yongyuan shuddered. “That’s the full extent of what I know!”

“These account books record the final destination of the money from the Cicada Shed serial fraud case twenty years ago — it leads to the Hua Family of Yangdu.” Hua Yitang said. “The Hua Family of Yangdu is the mastermind behind the Cicada Shed — is that what you were trying to tell me?”

Zheng Yongyuan kept knocking his head against the floor, drenched in cold sweat, not daring to say yes, not daring to say no.

When he had been given those account books, he had been told they were his lifeline.

But in his heart he knew — this was a gamble. A gamble on the choice Hua the Fourth would make.

If Hua the Fourth discovered that the Cicada Shed was connected to the Hua Family of Yangdu and chose to smooth things over and drop the matter, then all would be well. But if he chose to keep investigating…

[The family clan is the foundation upon which every scion of a great family stands. Without the clan’s protection, a wastrel is nothing but water without a source, a tree without roots. As long as he isn’t a fool or a madman, anyone who has gotten this far would naturally give up — he would never dig his own grave.]

Zheng Yongyuan swallowed nervously: Hua the Fourth shouldn’t be that foolish or that mad, right?

“Unfortunately, I had the Bai Family of Qingzhou look into this, and these account books are all forgeries.”

Zheng Yongyuan’s head rang like a bell, his face going ashen as death: he’d lost the gamble.

Hua Yitang let out a cold laugh. “I’ve also uncovered something rather interesting: twenty years ago, the real Zheng Yongyuan was already dead.”

Zheng Yongyuan was struck as if by lightning; great beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. I know nothing!”

Thud — a case file flew to the floor before Zheng Yongyuan.

Hua Yitang: “This is the testimony of Old Liang, an agent of the Guangdu Prefecture offices. He personally buried Zheng Yongyuan’s body in the paupers’ graveyard.”

Zheng Yongyuan gave a violent shudder.

Thud — a second case file fell.

“This is the official forensic document from the Bureau of Judicial Review: the handwriting on your examination papers is identical to the handwriting on the military equipment design blueprints archived by the Ministry of Works under the name Xu Baishui.” Hua Yitang suddenly raised his voice. “You are not Zheng Yongyuan at all — you are Xu Baishui, a man who should have been executed thirty-two years ago!”

A sound not quite human escaped from Zheng Yongyuan’s throat. He collapsed onto the floor.

Thud — a third case file flew before the man who was Zheng Yongyuan — no, who should now be called Xu Baishui.

“This is the archived record of the marriage contracts between the Zheng Family and the Xu Family, provided by the county offices of Liu’an in Taiyuan. The Zheng Family of Liu’an and the Xu Family have been close for generations, intermarrying across many generations; the scions of both families are almost all related by blood. Although Xu Baishui bears the Xu surname, he is also the maternal grandson of the Zheng Family head. Thirty-two years ago, Xu Baishui was only twelve years old — yet he was already able to add his signature to military equipment design blueprints, demonstrating that he was a child of exceptional talent among the sons and grandsons of both the Xu and Zheng families.”

Xu Baishui curled into a ball, his back soaked through with sweat, a suppressed and agonized whimpering rising from his throat, a burning fire seeming to rage in his chest, the pain piercing him to the core.

Thud — a fourth case file came flying over.

“This is the investigation report from the Bai Family of Qingzhou: the ultimate destination of the money from the Cicada Shed that destroyed the Su Family of Suizhou last year was the Jiang Family of Taiyuan.”

Thud — a fifth case file.

“This is the investigation dossier from the Cicada Shed serial fraud case in Qingzhou twenty years ago. Half the shopkeepers of the Cicada Shed named in the file are people of the Zheng Family, and their methods of fraud are identical to those of the Cicada Shed twenty years later. If my guess is correct, the account books you produced must be the work of Zheng Cai, the bookkeeper who was cuckolded — he was also a member of the Zheng Family, was he not?”

“The Xu Family was convicted of treason and the entire clan executed; the Zheng Family, which had such close ties to the Xu Family, escaped unscathed. Not only that — they even earned military merit in the great victory at Yicheng. The Zheng Family then entered the world of commerce, doing business with the Cicada Shed, a venture that returned a hundredfold profit for the Jiang Family of Taiyuan. Basking in the shade of a great tree — what a comfortable life they had!”

“Stop! Stop it!” Xu Baishui clutched his head and shook uncontrollably.

Hua Yitang narrowed his eyes slowly. “And you — a traitor of the Xu clan who should have been put to death long ago — actually changed your name and sat the imperial examinations, passed, entered the Ministry of Works, and became an adjutant! Xu Baishui, you climbed to this official post by treading on layer upon layer of white bones and an ocean of spilled blood!”

“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! I didn’t want this! If I could have chosen, I would rather have died with them! I truly didn’t want this!” Xu Baishui screamed in a raw, hoarse voice; tears, sweat, and mucus smeared together across his face.

Hua Yitang composed his expression, drew a deep breath, sat up straight, and then said not a single word more — only stared fixedly at Xu Baishui as he lost all control and howled.

As Xu Baishui wept on and on, he began to feel the cold creeping in from behind, and the silence tightening all around him. Suddenly, he heard another sound that made his flesh crawl — the sound of hoofbeats.

The hoofbeats came from behind him. Xu Baishui trembled as he turned around, his eyes nearly bursting from his skull in terror.

Out of the vast dark of the night, a rider and horse came advancing through the mist. The horse’s coat shimmered like pearl and silk brocade, its luster luminous and otherworldly, not like anything of this mortal world. The woman on the horse’s back sat ramrod straight, clad in black soft armor, her face covered by a silver mask, a six-foot horse-cleaving blade in her hand.

The hoofbeats came steadily, unhurried, each one falling in time with Xu Baishui’s own heartbeat.

Xu Baishui’s tears poured down his face; he scrambled forward on hands and feet, curled into a ball, and knocked his head against the ground again and again, wailing without cease. “General Qin! General Qin! It was all the fault of our Xu Family, and the Zheng Family! It was our insatiable greed! We should never have shifted the blame for embezzling the military funds onto your shoulders — we were despicable and shameless, we were less than human!”

“But we were forced into it too! Commander Jiang said that if we did not shift the blame for the embezzlement onto the Qin Family Army, not a single member of the Zheng Family or the Xu Family would be left alive. In consideration of our Xu Family being buried alongside the Qin Family Army as our penance — please spare the descendants of the Zheng Family! I will make amends to you, I will offer you my life in payment; this rotten life of mine should have been forfeit to you long ago! General Qin, we were wrong! We deserve death; I deserve to die — aaah, aah, aaah!”

The snow-white hooves stopped right before his eyes. The horse-cleaving blade pierced into the ground with a shing, embedding itself half a foot deep; the blade’s body hummed and resonated without ceasing, like a banner that would never fall.

A clear, cool woman’s voice rang out in the hall. “You just said Commander Jiang?”

“It was Jiang Wende — Jiang Wende of the Jiang Family of Taiyuan! He was the one who forced us! We truly didn’t want this — but at the time, General, you had suddenly vanished without a trace; the Tuzhan Kingdom launched its surprise attack; we held on for twenty-six days, and all the siege equipment had broken down… it was all our fault, all our fault, causing the Qin Family Army to be nearly annihilated… rivers of blood, rivers of blood, aaah, aaah, aaah…”

“The Wan Family of Qingzhou won. The Jiang Family of Taiyuan arrived. Jiang Wende was the supervising commander. He said that if we were willing to listen to him, he could preserve one line — either the Zheng Family or the Xu Family. Father and grandfather cast lots; the lot fell on the Zheng Family. But they couldn’t bear to let me die, so they went to all manner of lengths to keep me alive. I should have died then; I was supposed to die with them!”

Xu Baishui tilted his face upward, his eyes burning red with tears, gazing at the black-clad general with an expression of growing reverence, as though beholding a divine image in a temple. “General Qin, I don’t want to live in fear and dread any longer. I beg you to give me death!”

With that, Xu Baishui actually squeezed his eyes shut and threw himself toward the blade of the horse-cleaving sword. But in the split second before he reached it, the black-clad general reached out, seized Xu Baishui by the back of his collar, rose from the stirrups and vaulted into the air, then flew down to the center of the main hall and sent Xu Baishui sliding gently to the floor. Beneath him lay a thoroughly written-out confession document.

“Sign and seal it,” the black-clad general said coldly.

Xu Baishui stared blankly — then suddenly caught on. “You’re not General Qin!”

The black-clad general removed the mask, revealing the face of a young woman: long brows, phoenix-shaped eyes, irises bright as stars — it was Lin Sui’an.

Xu Baishui stared and stared; through his tear-blurred eyes a smile slowly appeared. “So that’s how it is. So that’s how it is. Truly the laws of heaven are clear, and retribution is certain.” He scrubbed away his tears with both hands, snatched up the brush, and signed and sealed his name on the confession document. “This is what our Xu Family and our Zheng Family owe the Qin Family Army! I sign! I admit it all!”

Though the case had clearly just taken a decisive turn, those who stared at the blood-spotted confession felt no joy whatsoever.

Even though they had mentally prepared themselves beforehand, the filth and venom lurking behind this case were truly enough to make one’s blood run cold.

“Have Xu Baishui held in secret solitary confinement, guarded by the Four Saints.” Hua Yitang handed the confession to Fangke. “This case is of immense consequence and far-reaching implications. Fangke, please keep this confession safe for the time being. Once I have been in contact with Ling the Sixth in the Eastern Capital, we will make further plans.”

Fangke took the confession, exchanged a glance with Lin Sui’an, clasped his fists in salute, and departed.

Lin Sui’an was filled with worry. “It really is the Jiang Family of Taiyuan. Can you—”

Could they possibly win against the Jiang Family of Taiyuan?

Hua Yitang sighed and gazed at the bright moon in the sky above, silent for a long, long time.

Side Story

Back at the Hua Residence, Fangke was somewhat troubled: the confession was of critical importance — where on earth could he hide it to be absolutely safe?

He paced around the room twice. His gaze fell on the large glass jar filled to the brim with preserved specimens of internal organs.

He smiled.